HANGTOWN TOUGH
We headed for Hangtown in ‘49
But never showed till ‘50.
Between us we had nary a dime.
Suffice it to say, we was thrifty!
The Sierra Nevada's are god-awful high!
And the dang trail rugged at best.
Ma took one look and groaned, “Oh my!
We should have stayed home with the rest!”
The creek ain’t iced up all the time.
August heat is quick to thaw it.
It’s just for wading. That's the crime.
If there’s gold, I never saw it.
The housing in Hangtown leaves much to desire.
That’s the case everywhere we went.
But there ain’t much Ma and me require,
And we had a luxurious tent!
The tent’s mighty cozy,
Though lacking for room,
With a dirt floor infested with mice
Damp as the dickens and cold as a tomb.
The first year I froze to death twice!
The wood stove was nice if ya sat on the lid.
A bonfire would be better I’m thinkin’.
When it dropped below thirty as often it did,
It froze finials right off of the Franklin!
Flatlanders are welcome despite what you hear.
You won’t hang. I can’t even conceive it!
We’ve oodles of room
And we’re known for our beer.
Bring plenty of cash, and please leave it.
If you’ve got a hankerin’ for livin’ on beans,
Out west where it’s generally sunny,
Then check out the gold camps and by all means,
Visit Hangtown and bring lots of money!
Shannon Thomas Casebeer
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